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The Good Pussy Feb 2015
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         DUI DUI DUI D       UI DUI DUI DUI
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Drunk in a DUI checkpoint
And I'm counting
How many drinks I've had
And the hours I've taken
I'm counting breaths
And prose I've written
How many of my own
Words I've bitten
I'm counting how many
Times I've felt this sort
Of hurt
And how many times I've felt as reasonable
Is worse

I'm counting how many stars there are above
And the city of fireflies that I almost wish I'd never heard of
Nathan Herby Jan 2013
Sign here and,here
Authorized personnel only
Exit…

A sign of distress on his face
The normal signs of distress?
No. Signal the white flag high

Suboxone and methadone
Romney and Ryan
The county fairgrounds…

“Lookout for that fox!”
DUI you cant afford it
DUI CRACK you cant afford it

Hand signals communicate
UFO Conference?
No SIGNS of UFO’s tonight

“Where’s your sign?”
What would my sign look like?
Winding road, next 4 miles
Cruisin' through the back roads of western PA.
Maya Oct 2018
if you can be anything
be kind.

we are all just humans.
we laugh at cute cat videos,
hum little songs,
eat raw cookie dough and laugh when it makes one giant cookie mass.

life is made of these moments.
people deserve so much love.
how often do we remind our families we love them?
is it often enough?
how many days do we think only of ourselves.
human nature is beautiful and terrible and stunning.

somehow hate seeps through the cracks of time and makes us bitter and angry.

and it's fine to be angry.
just don't let it consume you.
remember sometimes that there
are old folks out there who still tease each other,
there are babies who giggle when you play peekaboo,
there are dogs with slobbery tongues who need head scratches,
there are children spinning and laughing when they fall.
humams are important.
we are special.

even people we say we hate.
i thought i hated my mom
but i know she cares
and i have seen her run when she thought i was in danger.
i have seen her break into tears at getting a DUI and trying to explain to a child that she might lose her job.

being human is tough.
our hearts harden trying to protect ourselves but
we end up locking people out.

in trying to avoid being hurt
we hurt the ones we love.

please never forget that each person you meet has more than just facet.
people are stunningly complex.
don't judge someome til you've walked two moons in their moccasins.

humans are worth so much.
i don't know what i am saying
but i mean it with all of me.
i love you.
you deserve so much.
Sjr1000 Feb 2014
I've been digging
through this dumpster
far too long
trying to get to the bottom of it all.
Slimey sweet stench
there's my first love
my first pipe
my last light
my first rush
my last gush
my first bet
my last buck
"the game ain't over
until the rent money's gone."

I am down a deep hole
and my only tool is a shovel
I've got that one choice
but to go
down
down
down.
Drunk and dial
Drunk and poetry
how did I get here
how do I get out?

I'm a spiritual wasteland
connected to no one
connected to nothing
My drug
My man
My woman
My casino
The rush comes first
The numbness comes last
until
death, insanity or jail
is within my grasp.
I do what I do
But I am allergic too
you understand
when I do what I do
I break out in handcuffs
jail cells
strapped down to beds
looking around
longing for my dumpster
and
what I might have found.

1st Step
12th Step
I've done them all
though the 13th Step
I liked the best
Sponsors have come and gone
Spiritual awakenings
have all been done
I am back in this dumpster
where I had begun.

There is an exquisite mystery
at the heart of it all
the internal shift
happens
an inside job
The 21 year old's first black out
enough is enough
The 60 year old
on his fifth DUI
going out for one more round.

It is true
I have seen it many times
Recovery can be found
Hope restored
Wisdom in these halls
Peace within these walls
The dumpster closed
and left behind
A ladder falls and arrives
acceptance and gratitude
combine
as they say
"One day at a time."
"Poker the game ain't over until the rent money is gone" was on a greeting card.
13th Stepping is hitting on new comers in meetings.   I am not in recovery yet, but I always need to add the yet.
Sydney Victoria Dec 2012
Let's Hold Up Our Glasses And Make A Toast

Here's To The Liars,
The Cheaters,
The Hatrers,
And The Women Beaters  

Here's To The Feet Draggers,
Body Baggers,
The Backstabbers,
And The Joint Draggers

Here's To The DUI Kills,
People Tryin To Keep It "Trill",
People Who Don't Reach To Pay The Bill,
And To The People Who Need A Refill

Here's To The Governments Killing Their Own,
Here's To Telemarketers Who Blow Up My Phone,
To The People In My Life Who Keep Breaking Me,
To That One Boy With A Heart Cold As Stone

Here's To The Chemistry Tests,
Being Enternally Upset,
Enternally Recked,
Here's To The People Who Scream In My Face

Here's To All The Pain,
Heres To The Knifes Which Have Cut A Vein,
To All The Guys Who Just Wanna Piece Of ***
Heres To All The People I Dread In My Math Class

As You Can See.. I'm Not Even Holding A Glass
Sorry For The Language, Just Tryin To Think Of Rhymes:)I Tried To Make The Format Look Like A Bottle On A Coaster So You Could See I Wasn't Holding It:)
Alexander Coy May 2016
If you want a name
you'll find it between the steps
of ladders, like the bullet holes
of wounded soldiers;
a body riddled
with questions
rather than answers

If you want a being
you'll find something precious
in the ugly, something beating, or
eating it's way out of the chest;
the imagination clumsily chooses
a newborn alien, or a
botched abortion

But no, it's neither
of these things, but it is...

And that's okay

If you want a poet,
colored and racist, a dancer
balanced and limbless,
an actor, melodrama
and actress

They're all yours
for the taking;

Remind me of the woman
who spoke of her vacation
at the round table of a small
town cafe; how she took
a vacation to the rainforest,
and had much to see; and how
her crimson red shades
matches the drapes; after all
it's the time of the month
and it lasts for days

If you want a lover,

you desire a well-lit cage;

and that, my prisoner

is okay.
Jeremy Betts Jan 3
Like a drug taken for a quarter century, this writing doesn't help like it use to...
See,
I'm starting to feel like it's working against me
Holding me here in pain and misery
Cleverly disguised as creativity
I use to lie and say it was a way to get rid of all this negativity
But I've spilled so much blood and tears onto stationary
...and not even purely metaphorically...
I should be completely empty
Hell, I think I might be
I think it's moved onto draining my energy
Can I still call this writing therapy?
Is it healthy or does it keep me from a new me?
Holding tightly but in spite of me
Hiding a different side of a complex personality
A new level of maturity
Is it actually helping any?
Today it's hard to say, but maybe
Unfortunately, it's something I'm good at, a skill I enjoy and I don't have many
So I've begun to notice I look at it differently
It was suppose to help me let go of the painful unpleasantry held in many a memory
But it woke a part of my ego that I didn't know would grip so tightly
It might have been a mistake to rely on it so heavily
It's no longer moving along the story
No cautionary tales to learn from because they never become history
It becomes a bookmark that I don't use properly
I never move it to the page I left off on and now, I must admit openly, I'm doing it purposely
I keep the worst of me right next to me, close as a frienemy
All because I notice I DON'T write when I'm happy
And I like to write so I dance around emotions strategically
I don't know if it's anything worth saying but writing is calling and drawing me in closely
A ghostly presence that when I look closely I see my identity
It hasn't always been but is now a big part of me
But does it want all of me?
Can't say either way with any certainty
No AH-HA moment, no clarity, only a death grip on disparity
So I recklessly walk the line of happy and tragedy
Like a DUI test on the side of the freeway, drunken pageantry
Eyes closed usually
No thought of mine or anyone else's safety
Dangerously close to calamity
And I just worry

©2024
*****, whiskey, ***
Turns out they don't make good dye
At least not for a bunny with a DUI
Still to make things worse this was his first year on the job

Life in prison, it's not easy
With so few places to hide your eggs
And the people aren't so friendly
To be blunt, eggs end up where they shouldn't be

*****, ink, dirt
Stained the bunnies fur unnaturally
This holiday no candy baskets were delivered
I'd like to see you hop with a ball and chain

Two pictures in one day
Newspaper headlines and a mug shot
Easter's not so pretty with a black eye
Drunk, resisting arrest, what a sad way for Easter to die
Infamous one Mar 2013
I think about returns the only reason I left us to recreate myself
I'd like to stay the same but as time goes on I have to change with the times
I always change it up my workout bores me
I need a fresh different workout
Relationships get stale right away they don't see into my world they see ways to change my world take the vision away to mold into theirs
Mma is great I take an *** kicking to make others better
I coach I hear others frustrations but would rather do something about it than hearing them complain
I've never got a DUI I got silly drunk but no longer want that rep
I'm not being with anyone lays ting is degrading after a while
I do have standards I don't aim low or take what I could get
I'm struggling for a career not a job that brings me up then demotes you
I'm one who works with and inspires kids not trying have my own
I'm not who you see but take time to know me
Kimmy-Nichole Jul 2011
so this just in.
last night, after a grueling  day of nanny-ing, I went to  the davis consignment store and broused around   finding some numerous  cute tops and shorts as well as purchasing 2 new books to add to my reading collection ( i just finished the time travelers wife.)
so than  around 4pm  I  was heading to B st  where I   was meeting with my future roomate, who by the was amazingly nice and pretty and has a boyfriend and turns 21 in september. Im so excited to leave parkside apts - living in north davis is such a drag. Central Davis here I come  ( Ill be living   5 minutes to  UC davis, an amazing arbotreum, pools, the davis Arc and frat  row and party city. This is going to be the best thing  that has happened to me.)
So after that  I went back to my  apt  and as giddly as ever, called my mom to  tell her my amazing roomate  news.   ( mY moms finally really proud of me. I am working 2 full time jobs as a nanny  from 8:30 am  to 2:30 pm than my night nanny job  4:30 pm to 5:30 am except on wed thur fridays.)
so it being my night off, i   figured why not go out.  so my apartment neighbor whom i met at the gym friend jesse who is 29, studied as a foreign exchange student in finland for a year, gotten a dui, is a davis townie, went to a  college called will-am-eit  and was in a fraternity out there. he is fun to go out with and bar hop in downtown with; the last time i was  out with jesse, i went to a bar called sophias than later on met up with my ex crush who is this charming dbag from winters named chad and got fun drunk. Well in aims for that spirit again we started off  by drinking and laughing at my apt . we decided to go lay out by the hot tub  and drank beer  being sillly kids. we decided to hit up downtown davis for this bar called the grad. It was beach themed  country line dancing night. Yeah , being alone because  your friend is off showing off his line dancing with precision kinda moves and meeting line dancing babes in bikinis ...awkward for sure. so amungst bying my own 2 beers which were hand picked by my big  and sure of himself bartender, which eventually  led to my  very  interesting night of drunken madness. It kicked off on as previously mentioned on the way to the grad which lead to me leaving with this older woman in a cab to another bar that was supposed to be more enertaining.  I ended up forgetting my id at the grad, my phone was dead and to top it all off  i didnt know anyone s number at the top of my head.  i decided to take matters in to my own feet and chose to hoof it back to my apt on f street. god, what a long and stupering night that was.  when i finally made it, out of exhaustion and drunkness , i  collided onto my neighbors couch still in    last nights outfit. karla  woke me up at 7 :30 and i showered  feeling super ****** and groggy , i couldnt eat or drink. I had work at 8:30. not feeling so hot, i was slowly getting through the day. the kids and i all layed on and under blankets and stuffed animals, and i told stories. it was really cute and relaxing. i love those kids.prior to that i threw up. after that it was time to drop off timothy at therapy, than abigail and abraham at speech therapy. I threw up in the bathroom, and on the sideof the minivan in front of ruth and timothy. ugh.    
so  than after i talked to my neighbor  slash ex boyfriend patrick about getting in connection with a a herb that helps me feel better by increasing my appittie and helping me sleep. he provided wth that special  herb. while sitting and smoking, i felt the spark that we used to have. i confessed to sleeping with a guy i met in newport two weeks ago on the fourth of july when i went back home. patrick told me he has hooked up with this slutty townie girl, and i wish them both std free happyness.

here i am typing away , getting sleepier and sleepier. Tonight will be a  early night indeed. i love my new spirit and i love who i am. i love where i am going. i will not exceed more alcohol than my tiny light weight body can handle.. Well it feels good to write. i know i must get back on that writing more often. until next time,
-Kimmy
There we stood falsly charged   of crimes  we had not commited
or at least  thought  no one had seen.

Jack Horner.
acussed of  lewd acts with a horse   well least he had a ride home afterwards
also acussed  ******  insanity   arson   petty theft   double dipping  
car jacking hey if the cars into it i see no harm in it.
truelley  he's a all around good guy.

Chris Smith.
For being a well okay  he's probaly the innocent one

Gary la Budha.
For selling to many books and drinking my last beer
and  for  ******* on thee toilet seat.

John Patrick Robbins AKA  Gonzo
For serving minors inciting a riot  farting in church  spiking the punch and creating a mess at the highschool prom.
200 drunken publics   3000 dui's    public ******   dam sports event's do it every time  ******* chess matches.

Breaking and entering **** i wondred why my house was locked
and some man was sleeping with my wife hell
here i find i have one and she's already cheating on me.
no woder thoose kids look nothing like me.

And for being such a good looking crazy *******  I added that one.


We were some fine upstanding  kinda ****** up guys.
The trial was a joke thr key witness Drew .D  glared at us
I felt violated as i knew mentally she undressed me  with her eye's

The video was the real kicker  ****** I told you Jack that
wasnt  Mr Es  barn we broke into  hippos dont wear  dresses .
Yes mate but there so dam **** he replied.

what do you have to say for yourselfs the man in his black Pajamas asked.
Once was kinda strange i had to get dressed up yet this senile old man thought we  were at a pajama party.

Order in the court yes your honor i'll have a martini.
We were found guilty but even a courts wall cant contain crazy.
  
With a spark of unplanned drunken brillance  like a **** between friends  we sprang into action Jack taking on the  officers  
Chris you take the judge   I'll handle the she devil  Drew.

In a battle fitting for saturday night pro wrestiling we
faught like  wild animals and drunk women chairs flew
ears  were bitten  body parts fonddled  
Drew screamed hey pervert get your hands off my ***.

No time for foreplay now satan  and i sure hope  you smuggled
a gun or salami in here thats just wrong.

Grabbing the curtian and  that hot court lady who insisted on typing through the whole dam trial  like a drunken pirate  who shops at walmart  a called to my brothers were blowing this popstand  slash pajama party.

Through the window we flew crashing through the roof of  a well placed mini van below  we could hear the pixie like screams above As Mr E
screamed goddamit thats my ******* van.

Into the sunset like mighty drunken legends we rode
hey you guys ever been to Atlantic City?
bound for trouble and and a few rest stops inbetween
hey were drinkers   and nobody likes to smell like ***.

Untill next time were the always guilty
Were the G team.
What can i say   except  well
Gonzo everyone
Sjr1000 Dec 2016
Nothing is going to protect us from the human condition
We can have fortune and fame
Be on the top of our game

We can be a rocker
in Lost Wages
We can be a woman with a small child
Trying to do welfare to work
We can dance the tango with a Friday night ****

We can be busted for another dui
We can be the head of the corporation
We can even be Paul McCartney
Michael Jordan
Kennedy may be our name
But nothing is going to protect us
from the human condition

I've gambled and won
I've gambled and lost

Millionaire wives die of cancer
Joanie's Johnnie gets SARS
Steve Jobs takes the last dive.

A truck driver falls asleep
A thirty seconds delay winds up catastrophe
So sorry!
Nothing protects us from the human condition

There are mine fields all around us,
most we don't even see

We can be in Mosul
We can be in Aleppo
We can be in Somalia
We can be in Mozambique

One ember, a conflagration
One breath of air, a hurricane
One drop of rain, water everywhere

Twisted Bill Cosby
his son
murdered while changing a tire
Your name can be Whitney Houston
mother and daughter
have died

Ronald Reagan's dementia
he didn't remember a thing

The list of the names
it never really ends
all that fame power and fortune

All of the pain loss and suffering
of me and you
Bad moods ain't seen nothing yet
There is no protection from the human condition

You can set me up another one
I'm drinking to
"how it goes "

I hide out
I come out
I'm probably like you
I don't know what I'm supposed to do
except
find slices of delight when able
There is no protection from the human condition.
Michael Jordan's father was killed at a rest stop. Paul McCartney's wife Linda died of cancer, she was 57.
Matt Roberts Oct 2012
I saw you today for the first time in years.
You were stopped at a red light
and I pulled up behind you.
You were driving his car with him
in the passenger seat
due to his dui arrest
from a few weeks ago.
Your windows were rolled down
and I could hear him
screaming at you about some nonsense.
You were silent as you looked at him,
eyes off the road,
hoping for an end to the noise.
I saw the tears streaming down your cheeks
in the reflection of your rearview mirror
and watched as you put your head down on the steering wheel in an act of hopelessness and defeat.
I guess I finally know what he's got that I don't.
I guess now I finally know why he's so much better than I am.
I looked at the room  broken bottles  blood fragments of clothes.
maybe a tooth  from somebody not fast are to drunk to get outta the way  of a conversation turned bad.

The juke box had almost  made it threw  but it just had  to
play that one song that caused  it to become a target  
for a flying cue ball.

And I herd someone speaking to the toilet I thought maybe
I wasnt that hungry after all.
As to what caused the  riot slash  the human tornado of fun I cannot say
But in my opinion that jukebox had it coming  always  playing the wrong songs at the  right time no one likes a *******.

And that drag queen could sure throw  a mean left hook.
While looking fierce and lip sinking to madonna at the same time that my friends take true talent .

Seems as though  the register had went on vacation  but they
left the wild turkey and pretzels  thank god  happy hour was almost apon us.

And theres nothing worse than telling a proffesional drinker as myself
theres no snacks  it's like tellinga kid theres no santa claus.
And that big fat guy in the red suit  with his little dwarfs  
were really just some of momies friends.

I always wondred why santa was so into  getting the crap beat outta him
by a woman in a latex outfit calling herself mistress Claus.

Yes coffee always made things better mixed with some  of  my personal corn whiskey  yeah grandpa   may went insane and herd voices from drinking the stuff  but at least he always had someone to talk to.

As I looked at the chaos that was my headquarters  memories  came to me in a flood   the booth were I   met  my first wife.
that same booth were i caught  her with my best friend and worst enemy  and santa  i swear he gets around.

So much for online dating dam you napster.
I should just stick with street walkers  and circus people.

And I think after  my tweenty first DUI  
that it was good i never had a license to start with.
cause i really hate losing anything.

It's a shame about my mind.

So really other than this little get togather turned riot turned  
love in turned back to brawl  turned into
big kid slumber party.

It was after the jukebox had to put in it's two cents
that it all turned to ****.

For nothing kills the mood worse than a bad song
at the right time.

Love  always  Dr Gonzo
Weird  Twisted Bizzar Sick  Perverted  Drunk  and Thoose are just my good qaulities   see ya at the pub
Andrew Hartnett Sep 2015
you used to buy the case
before the rest of us had the *****
you walked right in to that asian market on 3rd
and placed the beer on the counter
they once asked for your license
you told them you had a dui
they never questioned you again
SøułSurvivør Apr 2017
There he goes! He's quite a sight!
He's an Ace... a STAR!
The life of him! It's 3 at night
He's just pulled from the bar
He'll blind you... ***** your light
Anywhere you are
Is he cool?... or a blight
He'll **** you with his car....

Rattletrap Cadillac
He's bad to the bone
Rattletrap Cadillac
He goes it alone
Rattletrap Cadillac
He should be goin' home
Rattletrap Cadillac
He'll hit you... then he's GONE.

He just got his SSI
So he's good to go
Drinks as much as he can buy
Hard liquor, don't you know
Has to give driving a try
And he don't go slow
When it comes to DUI
He star's up the SHOW!

[chorus]


The Grim Reaper on the road
He got drunk & stank
He ain't scared... a gun to load
And he ain't shootin' blanks
Jail may be his abode
If he weren't so rank
As to hit, and then just GO
Cuz he drives a tank!

Rattletrap Cadillac
He's bad... he's NATIONWIDE!
Rattletrap Cadillac
With Jack Daniels on his side
Rattletrap Cadillac
Because he won't decide

To hit some trees... or give up his KEYS

AND GIVE UP HIS PRIDE!.



SøuŁSurvivør
(C) 4/18/2017
I saw someone emerging from our alleyway
in a beat up Cadillac. Hence this song...
Gonz and Roses Sep 2012
When i was ten I asked mom to hire a stripper instead I got a sitter.
Still I saved my allowence in hopes cause im no quiter.
In highschool I got busted drinking in the parking lot.
So I ratted on the teachers on the lounge who to which I sold ***.

My first girfriend was math teacher.
She said I was the devil dumped my **** now she's the wife of a preacher.
Its hell to drink alone thats why you can find me at the bar.
that guy cutting jokes hitting on anything in a skirt yeah hampsters you know who I are.


I been behind bars for some things I say I didnt do.
Trouble loves me so.
Im at christmas like santa how I love a **.
cant figure my direction to the this mystery you really dont need a clue.

Got eight dui's fifteen drunken in public a partridge and a pair tree.
When the judge asked son are you insane.
My reply was hell amigo im just being me.

I borrwed a car and took it for a short five state trip.
And when the cop pulled me in Atlanta I just raised my glass and asked hey friend wanna sip.
They call me Gonzo.
I love whiskey strippers and *******.
Ive dated a **** star  who left me cause she was worried id hurt her image
cause she  thought I might be insane.

Burned down the highschool for lack of nothing better to do.
Yeah schools out  wanna marshmellow  mister long fellow.
I'll pass on the long walk on the beach why not just head for the dunes and have a
cheap *****.

***** old man whos still kinda young.
Living till I die  lets hit the bar I'll take another hit till im in the iron lung.
Im so good at being bad.
***** the truth just make up how many ya had.

One last round till I hit the ground.
Do ya ever wonder how it would be.
To cast care to the wind and hang with me?

Nobody likes ya well sure i do.
Well maybe till I wreck your car  call you at four in the morning to ask hey ya sleeping?
Light fire to the forest just taking a **** and borrow your life savings maybe throw a party at your expense.
Just have some innocent fun and forget to check ID's.
Tape the preachers daughter  getting nauthy sell it straight to dvd.
look a girls got expenses im just saying someone slap me.

So really wanna hangout?
Come on im not that bad trust me.
Im worse.

So enjoy that life so normal  take your pills.
Work your **** off for the weekend and sleep ease as you nap.
That you really dont run with the Gonzo
So stay crazy hampsters and of course avoid the clap.


                          Cheers from your favorite
                                         Madman
Bob B Feb 2017
This is the song of a Dreamer.
You would be hard-pressed to find
A more likable person.
He is one of a kind.

He moved to California;
From south of the border he came--
A four-year-old with his family.
Futuro, we'll say, was his name.

Futuro's father and mother
Worked very hard to provide
A good life for their children--
Something that they'd been denied.

Schooling was very important.
Futuro strove to excel.
He wanted his parents to see him
And his three siblings do well.

His college graduation
Made his parents so proud.
The smiles on their faces were something--
The biggest smiles in the crowd.

Futuro landed employment.
Later things went awry
When a cop pulled him over
And gave him a DUI.

That's when the nightmare started
Futuro was able to see
What it was like to be treated
Like a detainee.

Belongings were confiscated.
His hands and feet were chained,
As if he were a convict
Who had to be restrained.

They gave him no information
And moved him from place to place.
Each detention center
Was an utter disgrace.

Conditions were atrocious.
The rooms were damp and cold.
The food was barely edible
After you scraped off the mold.

Thanks to our heartless leaders.
Thanks to the CCA.°
We have detention centers
Where people are treated this way.

Such centers often become
A two- or three-year address
For many detainees caught in
A bureaucratic mess.

These for-profit prisons,
Based on what we know,
Are an assault on our freedom.
Let's face it: they've got to go.

When we civilized people
Treat human beings like this--
Worse than we treat an animal--
There is something amiss.

Futuro, well, he was lucky.
He was released on bail.
Now his fate is in limbo.
At least he's no longer in jail.

Must he hide in the shadows?
Must he be on the run?
What will it take for Futuro
To walk in the light of the sun?

Give Futuro your blessings.
Give the hopeful your praise.
May our eyes be opened.
May we see brighter days.

(2-24-17) By Bob B

°Corrections Corporation of America
GailForceWinds Jan 2015
Suzanne was an only child, adopted at only a few weeks old. This was no secret, she always knew from the time she was a small child. Her mom would tell her beautiful stories, while she sat in her bed, of how she and daddy waited so long to get her, and how special she was.
She used to feel special, but that was a long time ago. Things were simpler back then, when she was four or five. Mom and Dad seemed happy, and Suzanne did not feel any different being adopted. She was the one kid in the small neighborhood that was an only child. Every other house had five, six, seven kids. Suzanne never knew what it was like to live in a house with other siblings. She was happy with the way things were.

Then the storms in the house began. By the age of five things started falling apart at home. Dad was always sick it seemed. Mom was always upset, crying or yelling or both. It seemed to always be toward Dad, a quiet man. He never fought back, he just sat and took it. She was never be sure what came first, her dad’s sickness or her mother’s madness. She just knew things were not right.

Her mother’s anger and frustration caused her to lash out at out at Suzanne as well. She was filled with fear and embarrassment at a young age. Her relationship with her mom was strained to say the least. From being “special” she suddenly could do nothing right, always being compared to a cousin or the neighbors’ kids.

Now 10 years old she hid in her room a lot, it seemed safer there. But she could not stop the sounds from downstairs. Her mother’s voice booming throughout the neighborhood. How embarrassing! She has to face her friends, doesn’t her mother realize everyone can hear her?
Her father became very ill. He was drinking a lot, falling down and passing out, sometimes on the front lawn. Embarrassment was something Suzanne was becoming very familiar with. He was a gentle man, there was no fear of abuse. But her mother’s emotional abuse was far worse. She was always screaming and crying. There were the nights he didn’t come home for hours, and Suzanne and her mother would wait, hoping he would be coming home, alive.
At 12 years old, her father went away to a hospital, a mental ward of some kind. Shock treatments, pills and therapy. He was always making leather belts while he was there, and that continued long after he got home.

Her father was gone for months. Suzanne stayed with her Grandmother very often. She was an old Italian woman who spoke broken English and always had a tale of woe. Her mother would come get her after a visit to the “hospital”. There wasn’t much time for Suzanne then, the focus was on her father. She drifted through the Catholic school system easily. She was a bright girl, but had to grow up fast, too fast.

What does she tell her friends? Mom said don’t tell anyone anything, ever. No personal information! That’s when she learned how to lie. Over the years she became very very good at it. Hiding things and lying, that’s what you were supposed to do, right?
Her father finally came home, a new man. He had stopped drinking and seemed stronger than ever. Her mother’s ranting and raving did not seem to bother him a bit. He just shrugged it off and went on with what he was doing. But Suzanne could not shrug it off, it killed her spirit a little more every day.

Suzanne was no beauty growing up. She was the ugly duckling among the swans. And she was very aware of it. "Pleasing plump" her mom would say, as she made the big, heavy, fat laden dinners every night. Donuts and crumb cake were breakfast. Always on one diet or another, but nothing worked. Food was an escape for her, and all too available.

She was the fat girl, crazy hair that her mother cut, glasses, buck teeth, which eventually turned her mouth into a sore, metal mess, and of course the Catholic uniform she wore day after day. The other girls her age were all thin and pretty pre-teens. Suzanne was none of that. She went through childhood embarrassed over her family and her looks. Friends were few for her back then. It wouldn't be until much later, when the braces came off, the contacts went in, and the weight became somewhat normal, that her beauty started to shine through. But that didn't matter in Suzanne's mind, she was still the fat ugly kid inside. She would carry that with her for years.
The time for graduation from Catholic School finally came. Instead of joy, all she could feel was fear - fear of embarrassment. Would her father show up drunk? God only knew what would happen. But the night came and went. Dad was on his best behavior, mom was quiet for a change. No carrying on tonight, no-no, she had to put an act on for everyone. No one could ever know how dysfunctional our family was. So the show went on, the good Catholic family, happily ever after. Suzanne was just glad to get out of there without a scene. But now what?
The thought of High School was as scary to Suzanne as a trip to Mars! She was sheltered in Catholic School for eight years, uniforms and nuns, no dating, smoking or drugs. Was she in for a surprise! It started the summer before High School, when she met some kids that went to a “real” middle school. They were no stranger to smoking, boys or drugs. They seemed so grown up, and they went out with boys! Suzanne was going to be just like them.

The first day waiting at the school bus, Suzanne was more nervous than she had ever been in her life. She felt awkward; the clothes her mother picked out were just horrible. After years of uniforms, she had no sense of style, and her mother bought clothes that looked like they came from a thrift shop. It was too late to do anything about it, the bus was coming and she had to get on.

She didn't know that first step on the bus would change her forever. The next four years would steal her innocence, opening up a different world which years later would only be a blur.
She floated through the first year only slightly touched by the devil. Cigarettes were her only vice. Not yet an addiction, just a way to fit in. Her art of lying served her well. She was good at hiding things from her parents. They were too wrapped up in their own misery to notice her. She escaped in her room and dreamed. Her dreams were of being part of them, the cool kids. Whatever it took, she would do. And so it began....
Four years flew by, much of it a blur for Suzanne. By sophomore year she was becoming a pro. A pro at being “cool”, smoking joints, drinking a keg in the woods with the older kids, dabbling with a pill here and there. The few times she threw up in a shoebox in her room didn’t stop her, but makes her cringe now. Her parents never caught on. Even the days she came home tripping on acid. Were they that stupid or that uninterested in her life? It didn’t matter, she lied good and did what she wanted. Including boys.

She met him at 16, he was a bit older, had his own house and grew his own ****. Doesn’t get cooler than that! And ***** galore. Of course there was ***, but that wasn’t the relationship, the party was. Always looking for the next party, the next drink, the next joint, the next line of coke. So of course they got married! She had to get out of her parent’s house, what better way? Say “I do” just to get away, and the party could really take off. And it did, for years….
Suzanne couldn’t take the coke anymore, or the ***, or the drugs. It was too much for her, so she gave it up, one by one. But not the alcohol. That was her thing, and she wasn’t gonna stop, not for a few more years. So she drank and drank every night. Maintaining a job but hating her life. She realized at 25 that her husband was her best friend, party buddy, but not a lover. The thought of divorce was too scary. Nobody got divorced, right?

So at 25 she quit drinking, only to become obsessed with running and working out. That was the new addiction. She became distant from her husband even more. She worked out and he partied it up. She couldn’t be around it, or him. She just didn’t love him that way…. Hell, she didn’t even know what real love was. Would she every find out? She was determined to try. On to the divorce…

It was pretty painless, once her husband got over the realization that it was going to happen. They parted friends. He fell in love right away, and married again within a couple years. Suzanne wanted to have some fun, not ready to settle down. She never had the experience of dating before, or being wanted by different men. If there was any flirting during her marriage, she couldn’t act on it. So act on it she did! What a wild ride, three years and countless guys later, she started to play with the wine again…

It started slow, a glass here and there, months would go by without. Drinking wasn’t a problem, right? Oh how wrong she was. She’ll eventually find out later on, after much pain, self-hate and heartache. For now, it was easy to pretend everything was just great. Life was great, although lonely. She was worried about finding a man now. She was 30 for God sake, she should be married again. Well, be careful what you wish for! At 31 she met her next ex-husband.
It was a whirlwind romance, took off fast and ran fast. He drank, so she drank more. Still, not a problem. Everybody blacks out, right? He didn’t mind, he was just as bad at that time. Together they could not be stopped. They were the “good looking” couple, the entertainers, the hosts of every party and holiday. And Suzanne continued to drink, more and more. Always looking for the next party.

She worked hard, moved up in her career and did very well for herself, despite the drinking every night. She was young enough to handle it, but that would all change. She had a son, and didn’t drink while pregnant, a glass of wine here and there, nothing crazy. But the flood gates opened again after the baby was born. No sooner was she back from the hospital than the wine cork popped.

The next several years would be somewhat of a blur. The drinking was still manageable for a while, but soon the chaos would begin. Divorce, DUI’s, blackouts, bad men, drugs… Life was definitely unmanageable now. Things were out of control. The drinking became an everyday thing now, weekends were non-existent, only a drunken blur. Something had to be done, before she killed herself. She didn’t want to die, at least she thought not.
Time had somehow stopped one day. There was no day or night, just one long drunk, in and out of consciousness. Her son was older now, the men were gone, she was heartbroken, her only love was the bottles of wine she drank day after day. Without a license, for 10 years, it was easy to isolate. And isolate she did. Suzanne had a driver, who everyday knew to pull into the D&D; liquor store on the way home from work. She would call him on weekends, anytime of day, early morning, afternoon or night, whenever her wine was finished and the liquor store was open. She could never seem to buy enough.

She stated to sink into the dark hole. Was she losing her mind? She didn’t know what day it was or time it was, was it morning or night? Did it matter? As long as the bottle was not empty, it would be ok. But the pills for anxiety weren’t working anymore, she had to take more and more, and still the shaking would not stop. There was not enough ***** or pills for Suzanne to calm her nerves when she wasn’t passed out. She didn’t sleep anymore, it was just a blackout state, over and over again.

One day Suzanne woke up in the emergency room, again, not the first time. She didn’t know what happened, but she knew she had to do something. Her hair was filled with dried blood. How’d she get there? Who called for help? How was she going to go to work? Her mind wandered as she lie there, now awake, wanting to get out!!! They finally released her, 18 stitches in her head, with no coat, no shoes, it was mid-January in Jersey. She got her driver to get her home, with the one stop on the way of course, D&D.; "Really," she thought. "Am I serious???" But Suzanne was very serious. She went back to her tower, her bedroom of isolation. How could she explain this? She couldn’t.

That’s when she picked up the phone, glass of wine in her hand, and made the call. This is where her next journey began….
This is a first attempt at a short story.  If anyone has time to read, I'd appreciate feedback.  Thank you!
Clem C Jul 2013
we used to be able to look around and fit in,
we did it to survive, yeah it kept us alive,
not wanting to be absorbed,
we did not or lose our identity,
we did not adopt the patterns,
of the religious or prestigious,
adaptation to a certain degree,
if we could not win it,
if we did not conquer it,
if we traveled, as was our nature,
we were reserved unless in the
heat of battle or DUI,
desiring* under* the influence,
we were womanizers and drunks,
unless we were sailing or battling,
eyes on the horizon and swords rattling,
but don't lose sleep,
we aren't cheap, no one
can afford an army like
ours nowadays, and
truly we were more than
an unruly mob, with helmets
axes, swords and a thirst for pointed
play, sharp wit and a bit of
****** and mayhem while
we slay the hours, so...
hand over your treasure,
or your life we rob and
drop it off before we get to
Valhalla, you are not invited.


©ClemC072013
Jon Tobias Dec 2012
I am there
Wishing that if I pressed my fingers to your lips
I could understand the broken Braille of your breath
When your throat locks in the noise

Gentle butterfly gut
Fanning flames over burning cinderblocks in your belly
I am there

When you wished the moon in a rearview mirror
Heading west
Wondering if you really could go far enough to see its dark side
When you wanted to turn back
I was there

When she drank razorblades
And Tylenol ink
Into a botched suicide note
I was there

This is the journey

When he wondered when he could hold somebody again
Like a waterbed full of blood
Without the motion sickness
I was there

Every moment y’all
Of your ***** sacred
I want to be there
So when you see that this place is so big
And you are so small
And our souls might be stardust and minerals
Burning blue so far away
At least you’re not alone

Your body is built for love
She said
Beer breathed and true
I smiled
I was there

Kiss me with your car parts
DUI this knee buckle
I want to be tried and arrested
Spit out and spanked
And I will still kneel before you
And praise all that is good in you
Because you are holy

Every moment of you is holy

I was there
Begging to be baptized by your presence
Because in a place so big
I don’t want to feel so alone anymore

I want to kiss you
I want to kiss you
Like you are better
Than everything you’ve ever done
You are

I was there
When the world inside your breastplate
Spun natural disaster
And sunshine
Anvil remorse
And sweet laughter
When I held you
Any of you
And our worlds
Vibrated a conversation only our souls could understand

I was there
And all we could speak was “LOVE”
All we could speak was “Us”
Christian zeal Feb 2014
I think it's safe to say unlock the safe with the key that you made and now your stuck giving smiley face to the DUI you got that in the pick your just breaking...dang!
Simalar objects are now shaking at the things they didn't do but just look at the lies there making.
Hard to say who was wrong to make the rights when every single one of us would of done the same wrong that seemed right with a life like yours.....right?

If I could put my two cents in for this guy,
Justin...just live life and always think twice.
Public...listen to his life before any songs he writes.
GailForceWinds Jan 2016
Suzanne was an only child, adopted at only a few weeks old. This was no secret, she always knew from the time she was a small child. Her mom would tell her beautiful stories, while she sat in her bed, of how she and daddy waited so long to get her, and how special she was.
She used to feel special, but that was a long time ago. Things were simpler back then, when she was four or five. Mom and Dad seemed happy, and Suzanne did not feel any different being adopted. She was the one kid in the small neighborhood that was an only child. Every other house had five, six, seven kids. Suzanne never knew what it was like to live in a house with other siblings. She was happy with the way things were.

Then the storms in the house began. By the age of five things started falling apart at home. Dad was always sick it seemed. Mom was always upset, crying or yelling or both. It seemed to always be toward Dad, a quiet man. He never fought back, he just sat and took it. She was never be sure what came first, her dad’s sickness or her mother’s madness. She just knew things were not right.

Her mother’s anger and frustration caused her to lash out at out at Suzanne as well. She was filled with fear and embarrassment at a young age. Her relationship with her mom was strained to say the least. From being “special” she suddenly could do nothing right, always being compared to a cousin or the neighbors’ kids.

Now 10 years old she hid in her room a lot, it seemed safer there. But she could not stop the sounds from downstairs. Her mother’s voice booming throughout the neighborhood. How embarrassing! She has to face her friends, doesn’t her mother realize everyone can hear her?
Her father became very ill. He was drinking a lot, falling down and passing out, sometimes on the front lawn. Embarrassment was something Suzanne was becoming very familiar with. He was a gentle man, there was no fear of abuse. But her mother’s emotional abuse was far worse. She was always screaming and crying. There were the nights he didn’t come home for hours, and Suzanne and her mother would wait, hoping he would be coming home, alive.
At 12 years old, her father went away to a hospital, a mental ward of some kind. Shock treatments, pills and therapy. He was always making leather belts while he was there, and that continued long after he got home.

Her father was gone for months. Suzanne stayed with her Grandmother very often. She was an old Italian woman who spoke broken English and always had a tale of woe. Her mother would come get her after a visit to the “hospital”. There wasn’t much time for Suzanne then, the focus was on her father. She drifted through the Catholic school system easily. She was a bright girl, but had to grow up fast, too fast.

What does she tell her friends? Mom said don’t tell anyone anything, ever. No personal information! That’s when she learned how to lie. Over the years she became very very good at it. Hiding things and lying, that’s what you were supposed to do, right?
Her father finally came home, a new man. He had stopped drinking and seemed stronger than ever. Her mother’s ranting and raving did not seem to bother him a bit. He just shrugged it off and went on with what he was doing. But Suzanne could not shrug it off, it killed her spirit a little more every day.

Suzanne was no beauty growing up. She was the ugly duckling among the swans. And she was very aware of it. "Pleasing plump" her mom would say, as she made the big, heavy, fat laden dinners every night. Donuts and crumb cake were breakfast. Always on one diet or another, but nothing worked. Food was an escape for her, and all too available.

She was the fat girl, crazy hair that her mother cut, glasses, buck teeth, which eventually turned her mouth into a sore, metal mess, and of course the Catholic uniform she wore day after day. The other girls her age were all thin and pretty pre-teens. Suzanne was none of that. She went through childhood embarrassed over her family and her looks. Friends were few for her back then. It wouldn't be until much later, when the braces came off, the contacts went in, and the weight became somewhat normal, that her beauty started to shine through. But that didn't matter in Suzanne's mind, she was still the fat ugly kid inside. She would carry that with her for years.
The time for graduation from Catholic School finally came. Instead of joy, all she could feel was fear - fear of embarrassment. Would her father show up drunk? God only knew what would happen. But the night came and went. Dad was on his best behavior, mom was quiet for a change. No carrying on tonight, no-no, she had to put an act on for everyone. No one could ever know how dysfunctional our family was. So the show went on, the good Catholic family, happily ever after. Suzanne was just glad to get out of there without a scene. But now what?
The thought of High School was as scary to Suzanne as a trip to Mars! She was sheltered in Catholic School for eight years, uniforms and nuns, no dating, smoking or drugs. Was she in for a surprise! It started the summer before High School, when she met some kids that went to a “real” middle school. They were no stranger to smoking, boys or drugs. They seemed so grown up, and they went out with boys! Suzanne was going to be just like them.

The first day waiting at the school bus, Suzanne was more nervous than she had ever been in her life. She felt awkward; the clothes her mother picked out were just horrible. After years of uniforms, she had no sense of style, and her mother bought clothes that looked like they came from a thrift shop. It was too late to do anything about it, the bus was coming and she had to get on.

She didn't know that first step on the bus would change her forever. The next four years would steal her innocence, opening up a different world which years later would only be a blur.
She floated through the first year only slightly touched by the devil. Cigarettes were her only vice. Not yet an addiction, just a way to fit in. Her art of lying served her well. She was good at hiding things from her parents. They were too wrapped up in their own misery to notice her. She escaped in her room and dreamed. Her dreams were of being part of them, the cool kids. Whatever it took, she would do. And so it began....
Four years flew by, much of it a blur for Suzanne. By sophomore year she was becoming a pro. A pro at being “cool”, smoking joints, drinking a keg in the woods with the older kids, dabbling with a pill here and there. The few times she threw up in a shoebox in her room didn’t stop her, but makes her cringe now. Her parents never caught on. Even the days she came home tripping on acid. Were they that stupid or that uninterested in her life? It didn’t matter, she lied good and did what she wanted. Including boys.

She met him at 16, he was a bit older, had his own house and grew his own ****. Doesn’t get cooler than that! And ***** galore. Of course there was ***, but that wasn’t the relationship, the party was. Always looking for the next party, the next drink, the next joint, the next line of coke. So of course they got married! She had to get out of her parent’s house, what better way? Say “I do” just to get away, and the party could really take off. And it did, for years….
Suzanne couldn’t take the coke anymore, or the ***, or the drugs. It was too much for her, so she gave it up, one by one. But not the alcohol. That was her thing, and she wasn’t gonna stop, not for a few more years. So she drank and drank every night. Maintaining a job but hating her life. She realized at 25 that her husband was her best friend, party buddy, but not a lover. The thought of divorce was too scary. Nobody got divorced, right?

So at 25 she quit drinking, only to become obsessed with running and working out. That was the new addiction. She became distant from her husband even more. She worked out and he partied it up. She couldn’t be around it, or him. She just didn’t love him that way…. Hell, she didn’t even know what real love was. Would she every find out? She was determined to try. On to the divorce…

It was pretty painless, once her husband got over the realization that it was going to happen. They parted friends. He fell in love right away, and married again within a couple years. Suzanne wanted to have some fun, not ready to settle down. She never had the experience of dating before, or being wanted by different men. If there was any flirting during her marriage, she couldn’t act on it. So act on it she did! What a wild ride, three years and countless guys later, she started to play with the wine again…

It started slow, a glass here and there, months would go by without. Drinking wasn’t a problem, right? Oh how wrong she was. She’ll eventually find out later on, after much pain, self-hate and heartache. For now, it was easy to pretend everything was just great. Life was great, although lonely. She was worried about finding a man now. She was 30 for God sake, she should be married again. Well, be careful what you wish for! At 31 she met her next ex-husband.
It was a whirlwind romance, took off fast and ran fast. He drank, so she drank more. Still, not a problem. Everybody blacks out, right? He didn’t mind, he was just as bad at that time. Together they could not be stopped. They were the “good looking” couple, the entertainers, the hosts of every party and holiday. And Suzanne continued to drink, more and more. Always looking for the next party.

She worked hard, moved up in her career and did very well for herself, despite the drinking every night. She was young enough to handle it, but that would all change. She had a son, and didn’t drink while pregnant, a glass of wine here and there, nothing crazy. But the flood gates opened again after the baby was born. No sooner was she back from the hospital than the wine cork popped.

The next several years would be somewhat of a blur. The drinking was still manageable for a while, but soon the chaos would begin. Divorce, DUI’s, blackouts, bad men, drugs… Life was definitely unmanageable now. Things were out of control. The drinking became an everyday thing now, weekends were non-existent, only a drunken blur. Something had to be done, before she killed herself. She didn’t want to die, at least she thought not.
Time had somehow stopped one day. There was no day or night, just one long drunk, in and out of consciousness. Her son was older now, the men were gone, she was heartbroken, her only love was the bottles of wine she drank day after day. Without a license, for 10 years, it was easy to isolate. And isolate she did. Suzanne had a driver, who everyday knew to pull into the D&D; liquor store on the way home from work. She would call him on weekends, anytime of day, early morning, afternoon or night, whenever her wine was finished and the liquor store was open. She could never seem to buy enough.

She stated to sink into the dark hole. Was she losing her mind? She didn’t know what day it was or time it was, was it morning or night? Did it matter? As long as the bottle was not empty, it would be ok. But the pills for anxiety weren’t working anymore, she had to take more and more, and still the shaking would not stop. There was not enough ***** or pills for Suzanne to calm her nerves when she wasn’t passed out. She didn’t sleep anymore, it was just a blackout state, over and over again.

One day Suzanne woke up in the emergency room, again, not the first time. She didn’t know what happened, but she knew she had to do something. Her hair was filled with dried blood. How’d she get there? Who called for help? How was she going to go to work? Her mind wandered as she lie there, now awake, wanting to get out!!! They finally released her, 18 stitches in her head, with no coat, no shoes, it was mid-January in Jersey. She got her driver to get her home, with the one stop on the way of course, D&D.; "Really," she thought. "Am I serious???" But Suzanne was very serious. She went back to her tower, her bedroom of isolation. How could she explain this? She couldn’t.

That’s when she picked up the phone, glass of wine in her hand, and made the call. This is where her next journey began….
Short Story
Kasey Aug 2013
He said "I'm moving to Ohio.
Won't be long now.
It's a thousand degrees inside of this train and all I got
Is this coffee you gave me.
See you're from this land
With an office, and air conditioning.
And a job.
But all I got is this cup of coffee you gave me."
I said "what's in Ohio?"
He said "nothing. But here I lost $4,000 for smoking some ****.
Just a itty-bitty joint"
Then he motioned with his fingers. No more than the scar on my elbow.
"and that DUI." He adds
Under his breath.
"Yes ma'am. I'm moving to Ohio.
One day I'll see you on the news and I'll say
'I know that girl. She gave me a free cup of coffee, iced.'
And I'll be so proud of you.
I'll say 'I met that girl in a thousand degree train'.
Sure, Ohio ain't no L.A.,
But neither is this place."
Good luck in Ohio to the drifter I met today on the train.
Percocet
*******
Xanax
OxyNEO

And god knows what else.
You keep telling me “I’m not high I swear! I’m just tired”
But your lips are tinged blue, you have saliva in the creases of your mouth, your body is frail and sickly looking, your skin so white it’s almost transparent. Your eyes are swollen, glossy, and gaunt, your cheeks are sunken, your hair is tangled and unwashed.

“I’m not high I swear!”

But I don’t believe you. How many times have you said that to me only to confess later that you were, that you found a pill and didn’t have the self control not to take it.

“I’m not high I swear”

Yet you randomly smack your head, blurt out random words and nonsense, forget entire conversations, fall asleep mid sentence.

You said you were clean. But the very next day I get a call telling me that you’ve been arrested for a DUI, you had Xanax and Oxyneos in your toxicology report.

I’m afraid to answer my phone when it rings, I always fear it will be the call that tells me you’ve overdosed.

You said “I don’t need to go to rehab, I can quit myself”
But if that were true, you’d be clean by now. It’s been over a year since you told me you were addicted to pills.
At first it was just a perc or two, and now you are a full blown opioid abuser.

You’ve become the thing you hated most. An addict that can’t admit that they have a problem.

“Im not high I swear”

I can’t count how many times you’ve said that, how many times you lied to my face. So many times I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again.
But I know I will, and I know I’ll go home and cry after and pray to god you wake up tomorrow.

I just want my best friend back, the kind and honest loving girl you use to be.
I’m tired of the you you’ve become.
The girl that lies, that steals, that is wasting away.

If only you never took that first pill.
Addiction steals everything.
Francisco O Jan 2019
DUI
They say I have a problem
Yet it isn’t really there’s
So I really don’t understand
Why they really ******* care

They say I have a problem
One that I can only solve
So I hear the words they have to say
Then let it all dissolve

They say I have a problem
That I’m really really high
So it might be best for me
If I didn’t even drive

They say I have a problem
That I just hit another car
They look really injured
And I should probably drive a far

They say I have a problem
I just might go to jail
So I’ll take another sniff and sip
And say what the hell
jake aller Nov 2018
the Bus – Travels Through America’s Underbelly

I am a bus rider
That makes me unusual
For a white male
From an upper middle-class family

Our people are not bus riders
Though some are subway riders

Bus riders are other people
The poor, minorities, immigrants
People who don’t drive
Because they are blind
Or have a DUI

And in my case
I don’t drive
Because I have bad vision
And bad coordination
Just never got the hang
Of the whole driving thing

Fortunately for me  
My wife does the driving
But I still take the bus
From time to time

I rode the AC buses in Berkeley
As a child
Line 67, line 51, line 43 F bus
Rode them long before BART came along
And afterwards as well

As an adult seldom rode the bus
But when I did so
I was always impressed
By the sheer diversity
Of the bus riding population

Hundreds of languages
All sorts of ****** orientation
Some were white
Most were not

Most of my fellow passengers
Were nice enough
Some were friendly
And some were lost
In their own thoughts

And a few
Were scary looking dudes
With the look
Of someone who had done time
And were capable of more violence

I also rode the bus
In Seattle as a graduate student
A lot of fellow UW students
And the usual immigrants
Minorities etc

And some white people
Commuting

And in DC
Over the years
I rode a lot of buses

Mostly to and from the metro
But I got to know
And love the DC buses as well

I also took the greyhound bus
Across the country
Several times over the years
All over the U.S.

From Bay Area to Stockton
From Bay Area to Clear Lake
From Bay area to NYC
NYC to DC
All over the USA

Taking the Greyhound
Was always an adventure
Met a lot of interesting people
As people on long distant bus rides
Tend to open up and talk
To pass the time away

Overseas I took the bus
All over
In India, in Barbados
In Spain and in Korea

The Korean buses
For many years
Were difficult for foreign visitors
As the signs were all in Korean

Most have signs
Now in English, Chinese and Korean
And are much more foreigner friendly

Riding the bus
In America
Allows one access
To the underbelly of American society
The poor, the marginalized
The immigrant communities

That many middle class white people
Just never see

And for that reason
I am glad
That I am a bus rider
reflections on riding the bus for more check out my blog at https://theworldaccordingtocosmos.com
Claire E Jul 2013
Remember when we were three?
When we used to run around my backyard with our grass stained knees?

Remember when we were six?
We were attached at the hip, with our matching outfits and silly tricks

Remember when we were nine?
That summer we spent our days making sandcastles on the shoreline

Remember when we were eleven?
When my parents got divorced?
I moved out of the neighborhood, and it seemed like you moved on from our friendship for good

Remember when we were thirteen?
When you started acting mean?
You started ignoring me at school
I guess that's when you started being "cool"

Remember when we were fourteen?
When you said I looked bulimic, with a disgusted look on your face
Guess what, that was the case
I could have used a friend, I wasn't well
Your words hurt like hell

Remember when we were fifteen?
When you took that pregnancy test?
To get boys to notice you you were always getting undressed  
I tried to ignore the rumors  
But they were about as glaring as a tumor

Remember when we were seventeen?
And you got that DUI?
Because you decided to drive drunk and high
I wanted to shake you
I wanted to believe that it wasn't true
That my best friend was now a stranger
That she would do something so dumb, putting herself and others in danger

I miss you
I miss the girl you used to be
The one who was so funny and carefree
We used to be two peas in a pod
But now when I see you things just feel odd
When I'm with you I might as well be alone, but I guess that's part of us becoming grown

Isn't it strange
How people change?
Jasmine Roper Apr 2015
You really don't think she's worthy of you?

Okay you get good grades
You've skipped a grade
You won the spelling bee

But are you smart?

Okay she carries a 2.4
She got held back
Okay she can't spell well

But Is she dumb?

You got Into a four year university
She's going to community college

You're now a lawyer
She's now an artist

You're rich and successful
She's rich and successful

You're getting a divorce
She's getting married

You lost your kids In court
She's carrying her second child

It's her 10th anniversary
It's your 10th DUI meeting

You're at your High school reunion
She notices you

You ask her If she's smart
She says no

She asks you If you're happy
do you know what you said...............
Chaos Kidd Dec 2020
My life has become more than I can handle too. It just feels like I'm stuck in a room full of mirrors, not knowing which direction to go but at this point I'm so stuck I lose either way.

At first I was upset with myself for losing the kids and getting back into ****, and the only way to not feel that was to feel nothing but the drugs ya know?

Then with everyone else upset too, I started to believe everything they said. That I'd never be able to crawl out of this fuxkin hole. My head got twisted and I turned it on everyone else. Like I saw it as you guys all gave up on me because I was being a pos, not because I was destroying myself and you guys couldn't watch it take place anymore.

I thought all my "friends" were actually my friends, ya know? I thought they were sticking around because they cared about me, regardless of if I was an addict or not. I didn't think they were only around because of the drugs, so my loyalty went to them because I thought they were loyal to me. If that all makes sense.

Regardless of how much I wanted to change and get better, I couldn't bring myself to walk away from the very ones I should have. Which in turn, has me sitting there watching everyone around me getting high, and I couldn't leave because I thought that they were all I had left. And I couldn't abandon them like I thought I had been abandoned.

But I also can't watch someone stick a needle in their vein, and get high while I just sit there sober. I didn't think I could do it all on my own, ya know? When I got out of jail this last time, as soon as I got home I got to watch two people shoot up in front of me. I didn't want to call anyone to get me out of there, because I didn't want to make my "friends" feel like an ***, and I expected whomever I would've called to bitxh at me for getting myself into that situation.

Dad died, and we could've said goodbye. You had it all figured out, and I said no because they said he was gonna be okay and I thought it would be best if the kids didn’t go. Not even twenty four hours later we lost him. Not only did I lose my chance to say goodbye to my birth father, I also took yours away too. I could've just kept my mouth shut and ******  it up, but instead I ruined it. A month before dad passed, CYS took the kids from their dad and placed the kids in foster care. Life just became way too much.

I got booked, and two days after I got out of jail M* got arrested for DUI vehicular manslaughter. He told me a day before that, that one of the reasons he did the stuff was so he could stay awake to keep an eye on me and make sure I was okay. At the time it felt like I couldn't handle all of that. I am the reason M had drugs in his system at the time of the accident, to which two people lost their life's. The man who passed away due to the accident, and then M. The man that will spend the next ten to twenty years in prison because he had drugs in his system. All so he could look after his careless, reckless, selfish girlfriend.

Regardless of what I do now, I'm in too deep. Its inevitable that I will be going to jail, yet again. I'm angry because I was actually checking in with probation and stuff this time. I was putting in effort to do the right thing, but clearly it wasn't enough. I can go to rehab and get treatment for my substance abuse, my mental health and all that as well. But after I'm released, I will still go to jail. I'll more than likely still officially lose my children and whatever I have left. Which means whenever I would be released I would still be in this hole.

Or I can run, with **** near the same outcome. I will still officially lose my kids, end up getting arrested, lose whatever I have left. So why not fake it ya know? Why not act like I'm not lost, like the people i surround myself with actually care about me? Attempt to feel alive, even if only for a brief moment before I reach the inevitable outcome that I have set up for myself?
This is not a poem, in fact it is a message I sent to my little sister but I felt like I needed to share this.
Raven Nov 2010
you live like
the entire opposite of me
blow herb like it grows indefinitely
drink 40 oz until you can’t see
you aren’t the scholar I imagine I’d be
with
the guy majoring in biology
taking classes are nearly filled to capacity
like my mind with this fantasy
that isn’t reality – is it?

because my guy
is supposed to be involved in the community
in school, working and paying his bills on time
like you
but you – you’re not him
you just
eat
sleep
work
and repeat all over again
sold herb on the side got money and then –
realized
you wanted something different

a career and a girl
but do you really want to be
with a girl like me
because being with a boy
like you
is scary to me
i'm scared of me
and you
my guy is supposed to
have graduated high school
with a 4.0 and will go
to graduate school with that diploma
wrapped in blue and gold

he'll hold me right and treat me right
and write me poetry
even though he's never set foot
in a class like that
like you
but listen - you're different
you just got out of court for a DUI
it seems like your a party type of guy
but that fact that you drink
like UCSB frat boy worries me.

i might fall for you
because we talk so often
when i meet you in the doorway
will you have me at hello
will i have you at hello
the hell do i know
i'm not sure how to end this
because we haven't yet begun
Daniel Magner Jul 2014
Bye
My going away party
ended up with Garrison seizing
and Hailey getting a DUI
too much for one night
I like a good time but not
when people I love could die
it hurt my heart
I want to go home
and sit as a family
get a kiss from my dog
visit Ingrid and hear her laugh
grab some horchata then
crash in my old bed
lay down my weary head
only to wake up
and find myself
here
instead
Daniel Magner 2014
Silver Lining Mar 2014
A DUI
I'm not saying goodbye

You took the key
And left without me

Now we're stuck
All of us in a rut

What are you going to do next?
You already seem so caught up in this net.

Just give me a reason-
You up and left in the middle of our season.

I came home and your clothes were gone.
But we still have one more song..

I'll play it out on the piano in time
Hoping you'll come home and finish this rhyme.
It's been a crazy week/weekend.
Harmony Sapphire Sep 2015
It is like 90 degrees.
Air conditioning please.
You can pass out in this heat.
Too hot to move have a seat.
The forecast is the posted word.
I wish it snowed in this California desert.
Roasting hot is what I felt.
We all need to moisture our eyeballs with eye drops people so they don't melt.
Too much to ask for some loving.
It is like a solar oven.
No money for gas.
No a.c. for the low class.
Only poor people with dui's take the bus.
***** to be us.
I still ain't no one's wife.
I know Ariel & I are destined for at least a middle class life.
A pay check would fill this void.
It's been almost 2 decades for her & almost 4 decades for me of thus poor poverished lifestyles of the broke & unemployed.
The universe taketh & the universe giveth.
© Harmony Sapphire.All rights reserved.
J Holloway Nov 2010
She was a child once. A child young
And innocent and full of energy and she
was hurt. Cuts and scrapes can be recovered from
easily. Mindset cannot be replaced. Now,
she wears a neon sign that flashes: Broken.
That screams: Help me. That pleads: Save me.
And yet, her face is a page full of smiles and lies.
She is the girl that every boy wants and every girl
wants gone. She is lipstick smears and
morning after pills and [she is cutting herself in the bathroom
again] She is beauty at the point of dissolve.
Her mask of make-up cracks and in those cracks,
You can see a wall of tears. She was a child once:
a child young and innocent and full of energy.
And now, now she is on the evening news.
She is the daughter every mother is ashamed of.
Docket number 7356. A DUI added to the mix. She
Is the one at the high school reunion everyone says:
what happened to her? And her answer? What is it?
"I grew up." She was a child once. Then she grew up.
Sometimes Starr Mar 2018
It came from an accident.

From two people who met, loved, and sputtered out.

It came from adoption. From a family in the suburbs around Philadelphia.

And it came from Nowhere, as my brain put out feelers around her
and learned she was real.

It came from Fantasia-- from classical dinosaurs, and from Mickey Mouse with little dancing brooms, and from a line that vibrated with the music.

It came from Love, a word I learned.

It came from feeling like the weird kid in school.

It came from chorus, learning trumpet, and Boy Scouts.

From losing young friends and Sugar We're Going down coming on mtv2.

It came from nooks and crannies and trinkets from my life I am sweeping by and not mentioning.

It came from confusing therapy appointments and being told to take medication.

It came from my first guitar at age thirteen.

From losing control and breaking everything in my house and going to a mental health clinic. From cutting myself because I don't know, other people did it and I'm sad.

It came from puppy love with this cute girl who was pretty averse to me at first. And from sneaking over her house when no one was home.

And it came from identifying myself as a poet, songwriter, a kawaii emo kid who could hang with anyone (but maybe not some of the popular kids).

It came from being arrested for trespassing on accident, not believed, and then put on probation. It came from sleeping in past the bus and then being sent to juvenile hall for truancy. It came from a burning hatred for authority that hurt my life for no reason.

It came from feeling mishandled by my parents but also whiny and unable to stop whining.

It came from Latin class and AP English and Music Theory classes, and my high school sweetheart who is forever my personal Goddess of Music. But I don't think about her much anymore.

It came from feeling self-conscious about being a slow reader.

It came from seeing myself as an intellectual, and from being watched all the time by the government.

It came from starting to realize my brain gets depressed, grandiose, understands the world through fixations, and is sort of a lopsided brain.

It came from high school antics, starting to smoke ****, and becoming interested in the truth about drugs.

It came from starting to realize I was way too invested in these girls, and wow I really let myself become a **** sometimes.

It came from going away to college in the middle of Pennsylvania.

It came from an interest in psychedelics and probably overdoing it a bit and an incident where I hit my head that really had me spinning for a while.

It came from dropping out of Bloomsburg.

It came from starting to feel like I should know what I'm doing by now and for the first time, feeling like an adult lost in the world.

It came from going back to school and meeting a cute older girl who was Scandinavian and new and exciting.

It came from living like a rock star in a college town, delivering food and going where the **** I wanted when I wanted.

It came from my last time losing my **** over this girl. From realizing I am in control of how I react, and finally developing a callus.

It came from a very bipolar drive to Miami and back to Pennsylvania without looking into any new places like I planned.

It came from having to live back home with my bad memories. From an uncharacteristic DUI and banging my head in the cop car until it bled.

It came from getting another DUI for **** because my headlight was out and I got pulled over, but I was driving perfectly.

It came from having to be involved with the law again, and being depressed about that girl, cutting myself and admitting myself to the mental clinic.

It came from my parents really getting on my nerves, and it's not just me.

It came from losing my temper and breaking the TV and my dad's windshield with a baseball bat.

It came from not being allowed back home after admitting myself to the mental clinic again, from being set up with a room in the next town only to have it be destroyed by strangers and kicked out.

It came from living with a new friend, partying all the time, selling **** for money, and living in hotels.

It came from having to get away from all that and working hard as a landscaper. From patching things up and moving back home.

It came from losing probably my tenth job because I didn't show up, and getting depressed again.

It came from throwing that shoe at the wall. From my dad coming downstairs and me yelling at him to shut the ******* door. From my brother being rightfully angry at me because I'd been a **** and throwing his iHome at the ground.

It came from my parents calling the police on me when I was on probation.

It came from de-escalating, talking to the cops, and then using my coping skills and riding my bike after that, but it came from finding my tires slashed and failing myself, storming off and busting things up (only insured things) with rocks.

It came from the police surrounding my house and taking me off to jail, from that being the last time I'd ever see grandpop alive. We caught you on surveillance.

It came from five hard months in the county jail feeling very scared and not treated with justice at all. Except I thought maybe God is treating me with justice.

It came from re-assessing myself and taking some time to breathe.

It came from being locked up again two months after that for smoking ****, for a month and a half long sentence.

It came from behavioral health court, which promised to lower my charge from a felony if I passed this very strict program for a year.

It came from only being able to let it go about 50% of the time and from deep resentment for my parents built up over the years.

It came from being accused of doing opiates when I didn't, and from being reprimanded for not trying hard enough when in truth I was. It came from my psychiatrist is on vacation, and that's why she isn't answering. It came from I know myself, and I don't need medication.

It came from even deeper anger at the system but now I'm an adult. And it seriously helps some of these people, and they really do care I guess.

It came from not being sure if I'm trying my hardest but I'm going to apply here and work on something today.

It came from feeling like a complicated mess no one wants to listen to.

It came from getting up early every day to see if I have a drug test and biking through the freezing cold to make the bus if I do.

It came from love, that's a word I learned.
JDK Dec 2015
Ring toss, you know,
where you try to get a small plastic ring to cling to the top of an empty bottle?
I've won it twice.
Both times, took home the biggest prize.

DUI's. I've had some close calls.
Passed a field sobriety test once,
but maybe she was just being nice.

Dice games;
I've only played three times in my life.
Lost a lot once,
but won big twice.
Gambler's Fallacy

— The End —